


Undeniable Dilemma

by FemailoftheSpecies



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemailoftheSpecies/pseuds/FemailoftheSpecies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This picks up after The Infinite Benefits of Open-Mindedness in which Spike has come back after Lover’s Walk to collect Willow and gets distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As in most of my fics set in a pre- FFL world, Angelus sired William.

Police Chief Matthew Peterson pushed his way through the crowd of reporters, ignoring the microphones shoved intrusively in his face as he paved the way for the couple behind him. Flashes from cameras took turns temporarily blinding them, offering a small reprieve from the visual circus around them. Huddled together, they climbed the stone stairs to the courthouse and were guided to stand next to the podium, silver microphones sporting logos for various television stations sprouting out of it like tentacles.

Scooting behind the podium, Chief Peterson nodded to the man and woman beside him before tapping the only bare looking mic in front of him. The reporters took this as their cue and turned to face the trio on the stairs, settling down quickly.

“As you know, Cordelia Chase has been missing from Sunnydale General Hospital since yesterday morning sometime between 3am and 5am. A search of the hospital and the surrounding area has turned up no leads.”

An over anxious reporter spoke up, interrupting the chief. “A nurse,” she glanced down at her notes and continued, “…Maria Santos was found dead as well. Are the two incidents connected?”

“We are not certain at this time how one may be related to the other, but we haven’t ruled it out.” Peterson did not want to get into a question and answer session, but the press smelled blood and appeasing them with a few answers now would go a long way toward keeping them under control. He pointed at a young man holding a KBHK microphone.

“Have the security cameras at the hospital provided any information?”

The chief shook his head. “We have a team going over all the tapes at that time, but it will be several days before we know definitively. Next.”

This time it was a KSDL correspondent. “Girls turn up missing every week in this town. Why so much attention to this case?”

Truth was, Peterson was a little annoyed at the coverage. The rich were tossing their money around, but apparently that was how things worked in this town. He wasn’t from Sunnydale, the others on the force kept reminding him of that. They were especially diligent about it on those mornings when they would find bodies, drained of blood, or faces contorted in agony. And when he wanted to think of this impromptu press conference as a blatant flaunting of power, he just had to consider his own little girl, with her sharp green eyes and that mop of black curls bouncing as she ran to greet him every evening, and knew he’d do whatever was needed if he was in these peoples’ shoes.

“She may be witness to a murder. She may be a kidnapping victim. We don’t know at this point. We do know that she is an A student, accepted at several prestigious colleges, involved in school activities, and has had no history of being a troublemaker. It’s highly unlikely that she left on her own."

There was a flurry of voices, all the reporters speaking at once, sensing that the time for sharing was coming to an end. One voice was louder than the rest.

“What about the reports that there was a boyfriend? Someone who visited nightly. Any chance she skipped town with him?”

The question hung in the air like vapor, softly surrounding them all.

Chief Peterson just aimed the microphone slightly sideways and bent to speak once more. ”Miss Chase’s parents would like to make a statement.”

Robert and Antonia Chase clasped hands and squeezed as they moved in unison toward the podium, ready to plead for their daughter’s safe return.

 

~~~*~~~

 

 

The gravel crunched loudly as the white-walled tires came to a stop. Spike took a deep drag off his cigarette and stared at the dim light coming from the motel office, eyes narrowed. 

It occurred to him, halfway between Blythe and Phoenix, that he really had no idea what he was doing. The night Angelus had decided to end the cat and mouse games was a blur to him, images of blood and screams floating around in his head, but nothing too concrete that he could latch onto, nothing that served as a how-to-raise-a-childe guide.

Obviously, he knew how to _make_ a childe, although in the past he had certainly refrained from creating minions unless absolutely necessary. The idea of some creature being linked to him for eternity or until staked, whichever came first, did not appeal to the blond demon, so he left that for Drusilla or Darla.

Until recently.

That Willow was a special little minx. The corners of his eyes wrinkled as he smiled, remembering how she tried to console him while in the grips of her fear. Her brilliant hair led him to wondering if it were brilliant all over. And the darkness simmering just below her bright and shy demeanor deserved further exploring. He definitely saw her as someone with potential, had intended to do something about it, but this unexpected tangent was not without pleasantries.

Glancing into the backseat, he saw Cordelia lying across the creamy leather. Her reflection, still viewable, meant that the demon had not taken hold yet, had not fused itself into every cell of her being. That would happen tomorrow night … or the next if there was a great deal of repairing to be done to her body or if her soul was especially strong.

He sighed, pressing his lips together as he opened the car door and stepped out. Tossing the butt into the dirt, he stomped toward the front desk to get a room for a few days.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Willow sat Indian-style on her bed, wide eyes glued to the fiasco on television. Her friend had been kidnapped, she was sure of it, even though some stories were trying to spin her disappearance into a case of teenage hormones and secret loves.

Despite what the hospital personnel wanted to believe, Cordelia didn’t have another boyfriend. Xander had been it and he wasn’t even that anymore, so the notion that she ran off with some guy who had been coming by every night was absurd.

Wasn’t it?

Yes, she nodded, thin arms hugging her slender frame, it was totally insane. The hospital just wanted to alleviate their responsibility. They let her slip away and didn’t notice a thing. Not surprising in Sunnydale, where folks found a way to reconcile vampires and demons as gang bangers on PCP. 

The shrill ring of her phone made her jump and she reached for it quickly, her nerves unable to stand hearing it a second time.

“Hello?” 

“Wills, it’s me.” Xander’s voice came across the line and her heart leaped in her chest, a confusing mixture of guilt and lust flooding her at the same time. “Are you watching the news?”

She nodded, red tresses swinging with the motion. “Yeah. It’s not true. You know that right?”

He had enough emotional baggage to deal with without having to think that his girlfriend had been seeing someone else all along.

“I don’t know anything except that she threw me out, but was letting some _guy_ visit every night.” 

Not knowing what to say to that, Willow was silent, listening intently as he sighed into the phone.

“They want me to come in tomorrow, for questioning. Can you believe that?”

“It’s just a formality probably, since we came to the hospital with her. Don’t worry.”

He wasn’t worried, at least not about himself.

“I hate to ask …” he started, unsure. “You know, after everything, but … you know how Oz found you? Maybe … well, do you think he can find Cordy?”

 

~~~*~~~

 

The next morning in Biology class, Willow and Xander told Buffy about his idea. She thought it was worth trying. The only problem was that Willow was just a tad afraid to approach Oz. He had been deliberately distant since leaving the hospital on the night of the super fluke and as much as she wanted to just talk to him, explain things, she was certain that he would not be receptive to anything coming from her right now. Not even a plea to help Cordelia, who was just as innocent as him in this debacle. 

And Xander just didn’t want to face his friend yet.

“You have to ask him, Buffy,” she blurted out. 

“What? Me? Why me?”

Willow only gave her big puppy eyes, shoulders sagging. 

“Oh, alright,” Buffy pouted. She understood why, really, but sooner or later they were going to all have to face each other, talk it out. Or … thinking about how angry Oz had been, duke it out, which was never good. She glared at Xander. Why did he have to notice the Willowy goodness now, after they both had significant others? “You so owe me.”

Not to be cowed by the slayer death stare, Xander crossed his arms over his chest. “You still owe us for hiding the return of a certain murdering vampire who shall remain nameless.” Covering his mouth, he coughed and it sounded suspiciously like _Angel_. 

She raised her eyebrows, opening her mouth to quip, but then shut it with a snap. “Points for holding a grudge, Xander. I’ll talk to Oz at lunch.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

In his lifetime, he spent quite a lot of time in motels. It was his experience that they were of two types, completely sleazy or grasping for some sort style that was just out of reach. Fortunately, this particular motor lodge was the latter, providing a hokey Native American theme and continental breakfast which Spike felt were completely contradictory, and free HBO and pay-per-view porn.

Currently, for his viewing pleasure, Mindy Melons was taking a huge cock up her ass with a fluid grace that only the truly professional could manage.

Spike lounged on the bed, his left leg flush against the girl’s back as she lay on her side, still not risen. He let his hand drift to the bulge beneath the denim, cupping his own erection, wondering what she would think if she rose to him wanking off next to her. He smiled, imagining her outraged remnants of humanity, and decided to wait. There were much better things he planned to use his dick for.

It was odd. He was responsible for someone. Not like with Drusilla, who in all her supposed and real madness was quite able to fend for herself, but in the sense that he was to be father, teacher, lover, god to this girl. He never saw himself in this roll and seriously considered that he’d gone soaringly around the bend siring a human as a companion, as a childe. 

His musing was interrupted by the visual of Miss Melons having all her … holes filled by various cocks. Tilting his head, he settled in to enjoy the show.

Movement on the bed, followed by a scream, and Cordelia was standing next to the bathroom door, pressed to the wall, her hair a wild curtain of dark silk as her panicked eyes focused on the blond’s amused grin.

“About time you woke up. Must have been quite a fight.”

“Spike?” she frowned, not sure what he was talking about, but feeling like his words rang true about something. She had been fighting something and had won, that seemed right, but she wasn’t sure what the fight was over or exactly she’d won, just that she was here … now … with … “Spike!? What the … oh no!” She shook her head, denying what she felt inside her, where she was, who she was with, just about anything that was deniable. 

“You know what?” she laughed, hands motioning in a way that indicated the entire room. “None of this is real. I’m still doped up by that stupid nurse who I _told_ to stop giving me all that crap!”

The vampire was still grinning at her. And _looking_ at her like he wanted something. 

“Sorry to burst that fantastically creative bubble, but this is all too real, pet. Now come over here. Show me who you really are.”

She took a step toward him, wanting to please, knowing it was all she wanted and frowned, slamming her body back against the wall so hard that the building shook. “Whoa! What’d you do? Some sorta freaky vampire thrall thingy?

Spike laughed. “You really don’t know? Don’t feel it in you?”

Her jaw firmed up and she lifted her head proudly, not liking it when he laughed at her. _She_ did the mocking. But, she was also listening, to him, and to something inside , whispering quietly, vile things, words that should scare her, were almost scaring her, except for the fact that they didn’t. Only that blond grinning at her like he had canary feathers stuck in his teeth sent a stabbing jolt of fear down her spine, that and something too unbelievable for her to even begin to acknowledge.

Frantic. She was pretty sure this was what frantic felt like, something like when she got caught up in that Slayerfest deal a few weeks ago. A quick inventory of her surroundings told her she was in some motel room. Bad. With Spike. Worse. She glanced down to find that her modest hospital gown had taken a leave of absence and she was standing there in her bra and panties. 

“Oh my God!” she screeched and yanked the covers from the bed, sending Spike tumbling off the other side.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he demanded, pulling himself up from the floor while she hastily wrapped the bedspread around her semi-nude form. He walked around the bed, approaching her carefully.

She stuck one hand out in front of her as if to fend him off while holding the cheap counterpane up with the other. “Stay back,” she warned through clenched teeth. 

To her disappointment, she wasn’t dreaming, because would be a very bad dream and she really never had bad dreams. It was a thing. So that left her with the horrible conclusion that this _was_ real and Spike had gotten all fangy with her. Somehow this was completely Xander’s and Willow’s fault and she was going to bite them first chance she got. 

Spike shook his head. This was surreal. She was a demon now, for Christ’s sake. “You’ve got to be joking.” He had a sneaking suspicion that she was absolutely serious. Not that it mattered in the end. She was completely his and would come to understand that very soon. He was very skilled at expressing himself.

“You do _not_ get to look! Just because you …you um … We… We aren’t even dating!” she pointed out, as if it made any difference to him. He only stared at her so she switched gears. “Where are my clothes?” She couldn’t remember if her parents had brought anything to the hospital and being nearly naked in front of a leering Spike was getting old… fast. A part of her, which she was trying to beat into submission, told her being totally naked in front of any form of Spike was ultimately a good thing, but she refused to listen. Inside her head, she was screaming LALALALA to block out the really tempting suggestions.

“Your clothes?” he repeated flatly.

“Yes! Where are they?”

“How the bloody hell should I know?” He stormed up to her, batting her blows away easily. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he shook her hard, watching as she pursed her lips and glared. “Let me get this straight. I turn you into a vampire, make you beautiful forever, and you’re concerned about your kit?”

Her jaw was firm, eyes blazing. “Clothes. Now.”

She was stubborn, a challenge. The days promised to be interesting with her around. He could see that already. Letting his face melt into a warm smile, one he reserved for catching prey, he took a step back, releasing her at the same time.

“Alright, pet. Let’s see what I’ve got that’ll fit you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Xander stepped out of the police station and into the crisp evening breeze. Dusk was fast approaching and he squinted facing the low, orange ball, trying to take in the last of the warmth the sun had to offer. 

After school, he’d gone to the station as agreed the evening before. The detective had asked him a bunch of questions about the night Cordelia was injured. The cover story that they had all concocted was that they were involved in a scavenger hunt and the old factory was one of the stops. He stuck to it, not batting an eyelash and the questioning detective accepted it easily. He hated that he was becoming a great liar. There was also concern that _he_ was the mystery visitor/boyfriend, but it was quickly dispelled when an elderly custodian who by coincidence happened to be at the station at the same time, insisted that Xander wasn’t the guy he saw. 

“Xander? Are you ready? I should be getting dinner on before your father gets home.” Jessica Harris had been waiting while her son stood there in his morose mood, hoping that he would snap out of it, but when it was apparent that he was just getting into a good sulk she tapped his shoulder softly. 

He glanced at her, confused for a few seconds as if he’d forgotten she was there, and then smiled wanting to ease her worry. “Sorry, Mom,” he sighed and started walking toward the car. “Can you drop me off at Buffy’s? We’re studying for a test and she’s got the notes.”

Mrs. Harris nodded while opening her car door. “Sure honey. What time will you be home?” 

While not overly concerned about where his son spent his evenings, Tony Harris was just enough of a control freak to want to know when he’d be back, mostly so that he could wait up and pop him a good one if he was late.

Closing his door, Xander wanted to ignore the question. He wasn’t sure what they would find tonight or how long he nmight be out, but if his mother didn’t tell his dad something, then she would take the brunt of Tony’s mean streak which was something Xander could never allow. She had pulled out of the parking space and they were halfway down the block before he spoke again. 

“By midnight, okay?”

She only nodded and took the quickest route to Revello Drive.

 

~~~*~~~

 

“I couldn’t find Oz,” Buffy explained as they walked toward the hospital. “I don’t think he was at school today.” She blew into her hands, her breath warming her fingers slightly, and wished for her gloves. It was late November and even Southern California cooled off dramatically once the sun dropped from the sky. 

Willow frowned. “Then how’re we gonna do this? I mean, I know we might not even be able to do anything, but I really hoped…we need to try something.” Her gaze fell to her feet and she resumed walking.

“Do you think we should go to his house?” Xander asked. He wasn’t going to put his own fear of the awkward ahead of finding Cordy. 

Buffy shook her head. “Nuh uh. I … um … IaskedAngeltohelpus.” The words came out on a rush and she took off running, Xander’s _You did what?_ fading out in her wake.

He and Willow shared a troubled look and then trotted behind her, not running because they could never catch her if she didn’t want to be caught. The hospital was within their sights, just at the top of the hill. Buffy was there already, standing next to the tall looming figure they both knew to be Angel.

“This is weird. I haven’t talked to him since that night at school,” Willow whispered, almost distracted as she made a real effort to ignore the icy tendrils of fear that flowed down her spine. The evil in him was gone and he was just good old Angel again. Buffy said so.

“Well, _I_ have and he’s a prick soul or no,” Xander replied. His friend popped his arm as they approached the couple. He didn’t waste time pretending things were okay. “Deadboy,” he stated, his greeting as falsely cordial as he could muster. Angel just eyed him and Xander couldn’t help it. It was like he had no control over his mouth. “Kill any of our friends lately?”

Buffy gave him that evil eye again and interrupted anything the vampire might have said by getting to the point. “Angel’s going to see if he can tell where Cordelia was taken, right Angel?”

He had been staring at Xander mostly but his eyes drifted to Willow for a fraction of a second a few times, his expression completely unreadable as he scented their fear. “Yeah, I’ll do what I can.” Before any more accusations were hurled his way, he spun on his heels and entered the hospital.

Once inside he was immediately bombarded with harsh lighting and the odors of sickness and death being masked by bleach. He waited for the others, unable to determine which way to go.

“What room was she in?” he asked, keeping to the mission. Xander was too hostile and Willow too apprehensive for any other type of interaction. He _could_ shift his features and growl and snarl, be what they expected, be what he was, but that would be counterproductive. The imagined result put a tiny smile on his face anyway.

Xander was the only one who had actually been to her room and he led the way, up to the third floor and room 329. The rooms all looked alike, at least from the corridor outside, but a few were private, 329 being one of them, while many more were set up for double or triple occupancy. Glass made up the upper half of the wall that faced the hall, but white curtains on a track system cloaked the rooms from their prying eyes. On the door of the room in question was the police tape, warning them in big black letters to keep out. “Here it is,” he stated unnecessarily. “But … we can’t get in,” he sounded dejected as he tried the knob. The door was locked.

Angel glanced at Buffy, who nodded, and he grabbed the handle, breaking it quickly. They all slipped inside the dark room before anyone noticed. Willow instinctively reached for a light switch.

“Leave it off,” Angel ordered and the small redhead jumped, heart pounding. “Sorry … we just don’t want anyone to see the light through the glass.”

Getting the logic and the fact that Angel could see fine in the gloom, the others stood off to the side, waiting for him to do his thing.

“I can’t really pick up much in here. The disinfectants used to clean this place are kinda overpowering.” He brought the bedsheets to his nose to get a better whiff and froze. Not believing what his nose was telling him, he sniffed deeply, the sweet coppery scent of family permeating his senses, making his eyes burn and his demon lurch inside. He pulled the fabric away from his face and stared at it, noticing the drops of blood. 

It always boiled down to blood. 

He set the sheet down and shoved his hands in his front pockets for a few seconds, hunching his shoulders. There was nothing else for them to do here so he turned and stalked out, not stopping until he was outside of the medical facility, ignoring the demands that he tell them what was going on. What he had to tell them needed to be said away from prying ears. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, Deadboy?” Xander rushed up to him, standing toe to toe with the vampire. “What happened to Cordy?” 

When Angel stood there, unmoving, seemingly unconcerned, Xander felt something in him snap and he lashed out at the demon, swinging at his face, stopped only by preternatural speed as Angel’s fist swallowed the human one. His grip tightened as Xander tried to jerk away, glaring at Buffy when she stepped forward intending to separate them.

“What happened?!” Fear, perhaps of being touch by the vampire or maybe for Cordelia’s safety, tainted his voice as he yelled his question and Angel relented.

“Spike,” he spat, pushing the young boy away from him, feeling sorry for him in that moment but not so much empathy that he was incapable of hurting the boy. With the scent of family ringing in his head, his demon was riled. He didn’t need Harris’ dramatics adding to an already volatile mix. “Spike happened, that’s what.” This time his voice was intentionally softer and he hoped the boy backed down.

He really didn’t have to worry. Xander was in shock along with Willow and Buffy as this information, and all it implied, sunk in.

Buffy was the first to recover, slipping into Slayer mode easily as her hips shifted and her stance became decidedly predatory. “Are you saying Spike took Cordy?” 

Angel nodded.

“Looks like. And it’s been too long for me to track him.” He began pacing, angry at himself because he should have known Spike was still in Sunnydale, should have felt that heat that settled in the lower parts of his belly whenever his childer were near. “I’m gonna ask around, but I doubt he’s still here.” Now that he was trying to feel him, Angel was certain the little asshole was long gone and he had Cordelia with him, without a doubt. Those drops of blood made him uneasy. Her blood on the sheets was one thing, an expected thing considering who they were talking about. Spike hurting her was a given. But it was sorely doubtful that Cordelia could have exacted an attack and drawn his blood in her condition … but not impossible. That was what he was hoping happened. What seemed more likely was that Spike was giving her his own blood, turning the girl. That was what he feared.

He kept both theories to himself. Xander was unstable at best and Willow’s guilt, as delicious as it was, was suffocating him. This bit of conjecture would only magnify those things. 

Buffy stared at him for a moment, doing her best to delve past that mask of indifference and see what he was hiding. He let her, gazing back, knowing just how deep the girl who gave him her virginity was willing to look for fear of glimpsing _him_. Finally, she nodded and turned away. 

Willow hugged Xander who answered by wrapping his arms around her small frame, both too distraught to care about whether this was classified as the _naughty touching_. They’d done pretty much all the damage they could do.

“Guys, we can’t do anything else right now. Angel’s got this,” she said it to them, but it was the vampire that nodded. “Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

The door to the bathroom slammed behind her and she placed the folded stack of clothes on the toilet before letting the bedspread fall to the floor and whirling around hurriedly to face the mirror. 

For a few seconds she just stood there, her feet fixed to that one place, while she gaped at the emptiness in front of her. It was daunting, knowing her face was there, _right there_ , and having no image to show for it. Lifting a hand, she was unsurprised to find it shaking ... this was pretty traumatic stuff … but ignored it as she touched her face, then stretched forward and pressed her fingers to the glass. 

Nothing.

She pulled her fingers way and frowned at the smudges they left on the clean surface. Then she did it again, touching her face and then the mirror, growing more upset as the smudges appear.

Ignoring her hair as it hung in her face, she leaned on the counter, the palms of her hands pressed flat on either side of the standard white basin. “Crap,” she mumbled, looking around at the harsh soaps, shampoo and the tiny bottle toxically perfumed lotions which wouldn’t even moisturize one of her long legs. Her face was a mess, a dead mess no doubt, and she was sans anything resembling decent skincare products. Spike, she decided, was the most inconsiderate vampire to ever walk this earth. 

Of all the times for him to come skipping along and kill her, it had to be after she survived being skewered, which was his fault as well, and was lying in the hospital looking resolutely less stunning than normal. Because in no way was she going to admit to looking bad and now that she had no way of ever really seeing herself ever again, seeing how she appeared to the world …

Tears fell and she had a nice little cry. It was quick and easy and she felt better for it, but it didn’t change the facts.

She was a vampire. 

And not that she found that to be creepy anymore. It was more that she thought it was one of the worst things that could happen to a person when she had _been_ a person. Now, the longer she stood there, the more she got used to the situation … and the possibilities. 

What most concerned her was right in front of her. She was going to live forever, be beautiful forever and never see herself again. She really hated whoever it was that made these stupid rules and they were definitely on her budding list of Those-She-Would-Bite, right behind Willow and Xander. And Buffy for good measure.

Hating them made her feel better.

Wiping at the drying tears, she took three steps and was at the tub. She pushed the shower curtain out of the way and turned on the faucet. She tested the temperature and was intrigued to discovered that although the water was somewhat cool, she didn’t really mind, like she couldn’t be bothered by cold. Still she didn’t test that theory and let it warm up before flipping the lever that stopped up the drain. Her nose wrinkled up, her disapproval apparent as she debated using the motel brand soap. It was cheap and abrasive and would probably dry out her skin and leave her eternally wrinkled, but it was all she had thanks to the impulsive wonder laying on the bed out there. She planned to have a nice little chat with him about life’s necessities or actually her necessities, because she couldn’t care less about what he was lacking.

Yet she didn’t have a desire to leave him. She’d thought about it. While he was digging through his duffle bag looking for something she could wear, she wondered what he would do if she just got dressed, told him thanks for the bite and took a stroll. 

That she really had no clue where she was factored in only for a few seconds. As long as she could find a phone, call home, her father would handle things from there. 

Her father. The word held no sentiment.

It was at that moment, while thinking of home and family, that she noticed something odd. She didn’t _miss_ her parents exactly - not like when she had been away at summer camp with Harmony Kendall and Vivian Drake and there had been too many bugs during the day and not enough blankets at night and her period had come early and she missed her bed and her comfy pillows and the cook’s homemade lemonade – she missed the concept of home, her things. Her parents were an afterthought and the way her stomach rumbled when she did try to concentrate on what she felt for them, made it hard to consider them as people that she had once viewed as important, essential. Potentially tasty felt more accurate. 

Who she _did_ feel was indispensable for some freakish reason was Spike. And her brain, which in her experience, had always been a good brain, kept telling her that it was wrong to even entertain the notion that she wasn’t going to flee as soon as she got the chance. Yet she knew without reservation that she had no intention of going anywhere, not without him. 

She was confused, unsure of what she wanted to do or what he expected from her. And that made her edgy. She was genuinely troubled over what he wanted, not so much because she was afraid, but because she wasn’t. 

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she noticed that the tub was filled enough for her to soak and reached over to turn off the faucet. She undid the clasp on her bra and tossed it on the counter before slipping her panties down her curvy hips and stepping in cautiously. The water was hot, she knew that, but the terrible sting that should have had her hopping from foot to foot was missing and the whole thing was pretty anticlimactic without the burning so she sat down quickly and lean back.

It was time for a little self-examination.

Mostly there was no difference. She was still a nice specimen and her pride was never-ending. But she noticed a few things, like very fine bluish veins spidering around over her legs, arms and breasts, and the scar on her stomach was gone, like she had never been impaled. Her hand drifted over the spot, fingers poking, but there was no tenderness at all. She was completely healed. Not that she was complaining, but she didn’t understand. She thought that the vampire healing thing started after being turned, and whatever imperfections you had before that stayed with you forever. 

The bathroom door opened, dragging her out of her musings, and Spike stood over her.

“What?” She yanked the curtain until it covered most of her from his view. “Don’t you knock?”

Shrugging, he moved the clothes that he’d given her from the toiler to the vanity and sat down. 

“Not usually. Dru never cared and I don’t care now.”

She stared at him for a few seconds before looking at some spot over his shoulder. “Well, it’s rude.” And the fact that she was trying to explain bathroom etiquette to a guy who probably didn’t even have one back when he did have to use it was a testament to how weird her world had became. 

“We’re going out before it’s too late to catch anything and we get stuck in here all day.” He was hungry, he’d given her a considerable amount of blood and hadn’t fed since. He also figured she was hungry as well, just too overwhelmed to be all feral about it yet. If she had to go another 20 hours, he’d see a different side of her, he was certain of it. 

So far she was just amusing.

“I can’t go out wearing that crap you gave me.” 

His jaw clenched and he stared at her, eyes flat and unreadable.

“What, you think you’ve got some kinda retro fashion thing going with the bleached hair and the boots and the coat and all that black? Because you don’t and I wouldn’t be caught dea…” Her mouth slammed shut.

“Yeah, you actually would, ” he laughed. “Get out and get dressed.”

She didn’t move. 

“Now.” He raised an eyebrow. She raised one back.

Slowly and deliberately, she picked up the thin, white washcloth and the miniature bar of soap and began to lather her arms with big, lazy sweeps of her limbs. When he only continued to look at her, she grew bolder and switched to her legs.

Too fast to react, her world tilted and water blurred her vision as she was shoved under the surface and held there by an impossibly strong hand clamped around her throat. Shocked, she screamed, taking in water as she commenced coughing and flailing about.

Her dark hair floated around, making the water seem murky. Spike watched her curiously, entertained and annoyed by her histrionics; breathing and drowning herself because of it when there was absolutely no need. When her motions became frantic and she clawed at his arm, finally using some of that strength he gave her, he let her go and moved back. She bolted upright, spewing up great splashes of bathwater through her nose and mouth as she retched, clinging to the tub tightly enough to break a few nails.

“You …” she croaked then began a coughing fit as she vomited up more water. 

He knelt next to her and smiled. “I said get dressed … now, pet.”


	4. Chapter 4

It had been quite a while since he was a fledge. Watching her, nostrils flaring at the slightest scent on the cool night air, was like being a young vampire again. He wondered if this was what Angelus got out of the deal, the feeling that everything was shiny and new, ready and waiting for him to destroy. It was an odd sensation and he almost wanted it to go away, thinking it undemonly and fanciful. Instead, he accepted it for the surge of newness infusing him and walked along her side … patient.

She stopped to stare at a tree, focusing on the leaves.

“I see tiny mites on this one,” she told him, awed, like it was the most interesting thing on the planet. 

He smiled indulgently. “I suppose you’ll see a lot of things now, pet.”

The notion that something was wrong with her skirted his consciousness, not a living, breathing fact, but just a simmering stew of things that didn’t add up. Dru was a nutter, maybe his childe was as well. Maybe that’s what happened in their bloodline, the women were off kilter. Darla certainly was crazy enough if you asked Spike. He found it annoying that no one else had, and when he gave his opinion of her freely, sort of a goodwill gesture on his part, he usually ended up hanging in chains for the weekend.

So another kooky vampire in the making. He shrugged, not really concerned. Whatever she was, her demon would fill in any gaps.

“You think too much,” she blurted out, her voice loud in the relative quiet. He turned his attention to her, curious.

“That so? You lot never seemed to have a high opinion of my strategic skills.”

She frowned. “You mean them. I’m not one of them. You made sure of that, didn’t ya?

“And that makes you …” he trailed off, waiting for her to supply the answer.

She stopped walking and smashed the twig she held in her hand between her fingers before bring the remnants to her nose and sniffing. Her forward creased and he thought she wasn’t going to answer him.

“I think …” she peered at him, eyes glistening in the moonlight. “… that makes me free.”

It was as good an answer as any and he was somewhat less concerned that he’d done it wrong.

“Let’s find you someone to eat.”

There was an _eew_ buried somewhere in her, being beaten down by something much more persuasive. “Can we find somebody that looks like Alexander Harris?”

 

~~~*~~~

The town was pretty dead that time of night and all they could scrounge up was a man coming from the small diner about a half mile from their motel. He had been fumbling for the keys to his Yugo when they approached him. Thinking it was a robbery, he offered them the keys, shaking as he tried to trade them for his life. Spike wanted to snap his neck for even suggesting he would ever drive such a car. It screamed pansy.

He let her do the work, warning her against grabbing too roughly and killing the man too soon. The blood was still drinkable from dead victims, but less spiced and cooled swiftly. Also it lacked that surge that came from a panicked, functioning heart.

Her slender fingers became tangled in the man’s hair and she wrenched his head to the side carefully, while Spike helped, holding him still from behind.

“What do I do now? Can I just bite him?”

He rolled his eyes and let his features shift, hers following on instinct. She smiled over her fangs and lunged for the jugular vein.

Blood spurted out, spraying her face with warm liquid and she growled, heard it in her head, surprising herself before the tasted of human desperation and anguish exploded on her tongue and she locked her lips around the open wound and began to suck.

Spike let her feed for a while before sliding his fangs into the other side of the man’s throat and taking a few deep pulls, not enough to fill up, but it would keep him until they could find more prey. She needed this more than him or the day in the room might prove too interesting for his tastes.

Sucking and moaning, Cordelia drained the human dry then peeked up at Spike. “You didn’t want any, did you?”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Already got a nip in.”

“Okay.” She dropped the body and stepped over it, blood splatters covering her face. “I wanna go.”

Dawn was a few hours away. Spike preferred to stay out longer, but her young demon must have been wary. “Alright, pet. Let’s get you inside.” 

Shaking her head, she avoided his guiding hand. “No. I wanna go home. To Sunnydale.”

“Sunnydale.”

“Yes, Sunnydale. Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Repeat what I say?”

“I’m not repeating what you say. I’m asking a question.”

“You did too. I said Sunnydale, you said Sunnydale. You do it a lot. You brood and parrot.” 

Spike just stared, waiting her out, not wanting to encourage this by responding, and she laughed. When she was done he asked, “Why do you want to go to Sunnydale?”

“For one thing, I need stuff. _My_ stuff. And my stuff is in my house. In Sun –Ne – Dale. And two, I really do plan to eat Willow and Xander. Or is that three?”

A bit of revenge was always entertaining and he had promised her that they would make the two little lovebirds pay.

“Yeah, all right. We can head back.” 

She squealed, very pleased with how that went and wondered what she had been apprehensive about. Spike seemed to be pretty easy going so far, except for the incident in the bathroom. She didn’t forget that.

They started walking toward the motel, his new childe busy with exploring while Spike smoked a newly lit cigarette. Returning to the Hellmouth was not without drawbacks. The Slayer was going to be out to stake him once she discovered exactly what had happened to the girl. And with her came the tamed version of Angelus, pansy-assed to be sure, but still quite deadly. It spelled trouble.

He grinned around the cigarette and stepped quicker.

 

~~~*~~~

She insisted on leaving that night, before the sun rose. It wasn’t the best of ideas, but she was pretty pushy. Spike was unaware of just how pushy she could be, but he was getting a clue, as no amount of reasoning convinced her to wait. Instead of beating her for it like his own sire had done with him, he decided to let her have small victories, and planned to stand firm when the issue mattered more.

The “Welcome to Sunnydale” sign had been repaired and stood proudly, a beacon for the front bumper of the DeSoto. Practicing some hard earned restraint, he bypassed the sign, resisting the temptation to barrel through it. He wanted this visit to be a quiet one.

Hazel eyes stared out the open window, her hair whipping around. She was scenting the air, taking in everything, marveling at her new abilities. She still felt like her, only better, which in her opinion was a very neat trick. When human, she considered herself near perfect, her only flaw being that nightmarish fling with Xander.

Spike turned sharply and pulled into another motel parking lot and she pulled herself from the tantalizing smells outside to look at him.

“My house isn’t far.”

“We can camp out for the day, then head over.” 

She was ready to bicker over it--her luxurious lifestyle was a few measly miles away and he wanted to sleep in another fleabag motel--but he was staring at her, waiting for her to start something so that he could finish it. 

“Bully,” was all she muttered as he slammed the car door.

 

~~~*~~~

“Do you believe this?” he stared at the television, then at Cordelia, then at the television, then back, unable to decide what was more fascinating. “I don’t bloody well believe this.”

She only shrugged. “That’s Daddy for ya. He thinks I’m kidnapped. He offers a reward. Money talks.” He had gone out and caught an early morning jogger and she was sitting on the bed, munching on leftovers with a frown. The man was dying, his blood sluggish and cooling, and that special something was missing as well. Spike told her it was because he was unconscious and therefore unafraid. But it was better than nothing so she sipped on the last of his essence, wondering at her inability to care.

Focused on the news, Spike was only half listening. The report when on to explain about his childe’s mysterious disappearance and there was speculation regarding whether the nightly visitor had been a secret lover and she had only run away with him. Further into the report, witnesses from the hospital gave vague descriptions of the would-be-lover, none too telling, Spike noticed, and there was more talk from the girl’s father about paying anyone with any information.

“I’m famous,” she told him, grinning at the television and her own image before frowning. “Do I still look like that?”

“Well, yeah. Nothing’s changed, except you’re a little paler now and will whiten up even more as the years go by.” Studying her, he noted the tension in her. When he let himself think about it, this tension had always been there, thrumming beneath the surface, but he had been so wrapped up in the machinations of being a sire, that he overlooked it, and the implications. But he was feeling attentive now. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I mean I do, but …” She shrugged her shoulders, seeming to be shrugging off the topic as well, but then she pushed the body onto the floor and turned to him all in one motion. “I’m gonna live forever, or until someone shoves a stake in me, and I can’t even enjoy the benefits. What’s the point? Plus you don’t have a lot of money and I _like_ money so you need find a way to get some. Just because I’m all undead now doesn’t mean I’m giving up shopping. And no more cheap ass motels. Kill someone and get me somewhere nice to live.”

Spike nodded. Angelus had described all the slayer's gang to him, including this one and her proclivity for all things centering around her. Apparently, that trait was as strong as ever. He got from the chair and sat on the bed next to her, taking her hands in his strong one.

“We do show up in cameras and such. We’ll get one. You’ll see yourself that way. It’s not so bad really.” When she continued to look at him oddly, he thought it was because she was still having issues with her immortality when in fact it was something else. “You were and still are a ravishing creature, powerful beyond your understanding, and nothing will ever change that. I’d shag you in a heartbeat.”

Her gaze drifted to their hands. His touch was unlike anything she could recall in life, made the blood inside her burn in her veins, made her belly sink. The foreplay with Xander always left her flushed and heated and wanting more, but afraid to take that final step. No fear existed now. 

“Then why haven’t you … Sire?” she asked, smiling at him sweetly and appearing very devilish for all her efforts, her heated eyes searching his. She was somewhat puzzled that she wanted him this way, yet completely sure that this was the unnatural order of things. 

Hearing her voice what he had been mulling over since they’d arrived make his cock pulse in his jeans. He'd wanted to fuck her the moment she had risen. It was his right and he’d almost acted on that impulse, something about do unto other as had been done unto him. Instead, he waited and allowed her the time to become acclimated to the demon in her, something he had never had.

His own initiation into unlife had been a blood-soaked mess of screams and pain, just the way Angelus enjoyed his new toys. He learned to find pleasure in his sire’s games, but that didn’t erase first impressions and for all that he desired Angelus, he also resented him. It wasn’t the demon that bore a grudge, but the lingering humanity in him. 

Angelus had shoved his cock up William’s backside as effectively as he had forced his demon into him. William responded indignantly where the demon would have delighted in the degradation had it obtained more of a foothold at that time. Instead, Angelus’ impatience and need to dominate the new vampire set the tone for their relationship, and he unknowingly created a childe that would challenge his every word just for the sake of it. While Spike eventually found dealing with his sire entertaining, he intended something different for Cordelia. Pain would be a factor, but not the main event, unless she pushed him too far. He smiled, looking forward to those moments as well.

She waited for his response, watching a rapid series of expressions cross his beautiful face, feeling an insecurity that was foreign to her. Anxious, her mind swirled with doubt until those impossibly strong hands grabbed her by the her shoulders and pushed her back onto the mattress while impossibly soft lips covered hers.


	5. Chapter 5

He pulled away from her abruptly, bringing her upright with him as he lifted her shirt up over her head and sat back on his haunches, studying her. Black hair tousled, she was watching him too, breathing, panting, continuing a habit that he didn’t care to break, not when it made her chest heave and bosom look so full that he thought she’d burst out of the flimsy bra.

She’d complained about that too; Walmart underwear not being good enough for her and something about breaking out from the fabric. Of course, he ignored it and told her to put the damned things on or not, but they were not stopping in Cabazon to take a tour of the outlet mall there. He knew a con when he heard one.

Cordelia squirmed between his straddling thighs, antsy as he took a visual inventory of her, his gaze searingly possessive while glacial and assaying at the same time. He made her nervous, something she hated but was becoming accustomed to around him. She was in prime shape, an excellent specimen and was well-aware of that fact, but something inside her turned in circles and laid low around him, and he was confusing and comforting, odd to say the least.

Finally, the intensity of Spike’s stare lessened, as if he'd found what he was seeking, and he leaned forward, pushing her down on her back again. Her hand came up and pressed flat against his chest, stopping him. Eyebrow raised, he glanced at it and then her.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

He leaned in anyway, unconcerned by the tremble in her faltering muscles, amused that she was trying to hold him away, but would never be strong enough to really do it, and took her lips with his, kissing her softly until she opened up to him, moaning. Something in her belly sank, she felt wet and heavy between her legs, and her moans transformed into whimpers in the back of her throat. Spike growled into her mouth and he pulled back to look at her.

Flushed, for a vampire, her blood was racing, the demon in her riled and ready. 

The scrutiny got to her again and she needed to know.

“What am I now?” she whispered.

He kissed her again, quickly, tangling his hands in her hair.

“Mine, Cordelia. You. Are. Mine.” He punctuated his words by yanking on her dark tresses. 

“Yeah, but what does that mean?” she asked, tense. 

He dislodged one hand from her hair and wrapped his fingers around the front of her bra and twisted, tearing the fabric as easily as tissue. Her breasts bounced free of their confines and he leered, mesmerized as only a male of any species could be, before licking over a pebbled nipple and grinning around her flesh.

“Means I get to do this.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

She was no stranger to sex. Calling her trampy would have been an overstatement, but she had dated some older guys in her Sophomore and Junior years and they tended to expect more. 

Expect more and give less in her experience. They were grabby and rough or tentative and meek, but in the end, not very skilled. Not that she actually knew the difference because basically ground beef was steak until you actually _had_ steak.

And Spike was steak. Thick, juicy porterhouse steak. And she was starved.

Cordelia reached up and pressed her hands against the cheap, panel headboard that was stuck to the wall, pushing against it for leverage. She rolled her hips, trying to fuck herself on his mouth. He backed up slightly, glancing up at her over her dark curls, and chuckled as she thrust those curvy hips, following his retreat.

“Please…” she whispered. She was on the edge of coming again, just needed a small push…

He slid two fingers inside her wetness and mouthed “Good girl,” against her clit before sucking on it again. She moaned and arched her back, her fingers clutching at the sheets as she came, shuddering, legs trembling from the force of it.

Still in the throes of orgasm, Spike turned her over and pushed inside her slick, throbbing walls until he was balls deep, both of them grunting and growling. He stayed there, basking in the last flutters of her coming, before he moved his hips so that he was almost completely out of her sweet tightness. He rubbed his cock over her slit, slick and wet, before easing inside her again, this time going slowly, rocking his way to filling her completely. Apparently too slowly for her and she tried to push back, bracing her hands on the bed.

“No, pet.” He stilled again, running his fingers along the underside of her breast. “I lead … you follow.” He slipped his arm around her stomach and drew her back to him so that she was flush with him, chest to back, skin against skin. The position left her with much less control, but she didn’t care as he pushed deep and fucked into her pliant body. One hand came up to pinch her nipples while he let the other drop between her legs to massage her clit. The wetness allowed his fingers to slid over the swelling easily and she was moaning again, long and desperate.

“Sp … Spike …” she gasped and then her orgasm hit, so sharply that she tensed suddenly and screamed out and then went limp in his arms as he shot high inside her, jerking his narrow hips while her cunt milked him of his seed.

Panting, they collapsed onto the bed, sheets tangled and damp. Spike rolled to the side, bringing his creation to spoon with him and brushed her hair from her face, his fingers stroking the locks soothingly while she calmed.

Cordelia relaxed in his embrace, feeling safer than she ever remembered feeling, alive or undead. Spike was her sire and that meant a variety of things, not all of them pleasant, as she was discovering, but right now, it was very pleasing and she did not want to be anywhere else. 

But she still wanted better living conditions. This crappy motel stuff was for the birds, or actually for the cheap and the poor and she was neither of those things.

“Go to sleep, Cordelia.” Spike heard the cogs moving in that brain of hers and was too sleepy to deal with one of her tirades on better-living-though-spending-lots-of-money or something equally juvenile and narcissistic. “We’ll go play with your parents as soon as it’s dark out, alright?” he offered in an attempt to mollify.

Exhausted, thinking of her parents made her smile as she nodded and closed her eyes before asking…

“Sooo … does this mean we’re dating?”

 

~~~*~~~

 

Spike took one long, last drag from his smoke and glanced up at the mansion looming in front of him. It was at least the size of the one Angelus had procured for them last year, and belonged to his girl. Or it would very soon. He dropped the butt and crushed it beneath his boot.

“You know what to do, right?” he asked.

Rolling her eyes, she grinned at him, her fangs slightly elongated. She was already feeling the rush. “Duh, it’s my plan.”

He stared at her. It was his plan and she just added a few things, tweaked it to her brand of perfection. “Whatever, just get us in for now.”

Long legs strolled up the steps, her gait slightly off from the extensive fucking they’d done after waking, and she knocked softly on the front door. She wanted to wake one of the servants, not her mother or father. 

Not long after the second knock, they both heard the soft shuffling of slippered feet approaching. A brief hesitation while someone checked the peephole and the door was yanked open while a short, sturdy woman with dark brown hair gasped. 

“Oh my God, Cordelia? Cordy!” She stepped outside and lunged for the girl, wrapping thick arms around her tightly while babbling incoherently in spanglish. “Where have you been, meijah?”

The new vampire allowed the contact, and returned it with feigned emotion. “Shhh… I know. I just needed to get away for a while, Lettie. I’m sorry,” she whispered, surprising herself with the sincerity in her voice that she knew was not in her heart. 

They had been scared by her unexplained absence, afraid that something terrible had happened to her. And it had. Something terrible and wonderful and waiting in the shadows.

Pulling away from the woman’s desperate clinging proved easy and Cordelia stared into her eyes for a moment, the picture of seriousness.

“I wouldn’t have come back at all …” she trailed off as if it was almost too painful to discuss before putting on a brave face as Spike climbed the steps to the front door, pale hair and skin making him appear ethereal. “Everything was dark and really depressing for a while, but then William found me, Lettie.”

Lettie’s eyes drifted to follow Cordelia’s and she smiled at the man that had brought her precious girl back to them. “William, I think we owe you a great deal of thanks,” she said, her Spanish accent thickening with emotion. 

Spike smiled back, letting it reach his eyes as he rubbed his hands together. “I’d settle for something warm to drink, if that’s okay.

“Oh,” she pressed her hands to her face. “I’ve lost my manners. Come inside and get warmed up.” Without another thought, Lettie took them both by the arms on either side of her and ushered them into the house.

 

~~~*~~~

Spike had heard a lot of screeching in his day, most of it caused by someone in excruciating pain, but this bickering between mother and daughter took the cake. His ears felt like they would bleed at any moment. He was ready to say screw the plan and kill everyone in the house, perhaps even his childe. If her lungs worked that well, he didn’t know if he could take an eternity of it.

“How could you just take off like that, Cordy?!” Antonia Chase was furious. 

At first she had been all excited squeals and happy hugs. Her precious daughter was home, safe and sound it seemed. Her prayers had been answered. But once the young girl had relayed the reasons for her departure, those joyous sounds changed into something more like a bunch of wet angry cats.

“I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you guys like that,” Cordelia pouted, letting a few tears spring up, and Spike thought she did contrite particularly well.

Lettie was the one to envelope the obviously remorseful teen in her motherly embrace and glared at her employer in that way that had Antonia squirming. “We have to notify the police. They will want to talk to you, Cordy.” She did not look forward to that meeting or the press coverage of all this.

The housekeeper shook her head. “She’s been through enough, Senora. Tomorrow you call. Everyone should rest tonight, yes?”

Spike and Cordelia’s father had wisely remained silent throughout this exchange and watched the women warily, waiting.

Antonia sighed and nodded. “Come on, Sweetie. Let’s get you into a bath and then bed, okay?” She reached for her daughters hand and after only a slight hesitation, the young girl let her mom lead her upstairs.

Spike’s gaze trailed after them until they were out of sight and then he sighed, turning his stare to her father.

 

~~~*~~~

Robert Chase was not necessarily an imposing man. Tall, lean, fit, handsome, he was someone Angelus or Darla might have considered turning except for the graying at his temples. Darla liked them young as did Spike’s own sire. 

Watching the biological father of his childe, he saw that certain traits had been handed down that nevertheless were intrusive and demanding. If Spike didn’t _know_ beyond any doubt that this man was incapable of besting him, he might be convinced to actually yield to him. 

Not that he was pushing or pressing for anything except information, but something in his frank, no nonsense manner was refreshing enough that Spike was a little off balance. Most humans liked to beat around the bush, play games, even when they didn’t know that was what they were doing, but Robert Chase dove straight into the heart of the matter.

Spike liked that. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to eat him when he had outlived his usefulness. He would just enjoy it more, like a getting to know him better sort of thing.

“William? It is William, right?”

Spike nodded and sipped on the warm cocoa that Lettie and served him before going to wake Cordelia's parents. 

“Are you having sex with my daughter?”

He didn’t blink an eyelash, only frowned slightly. “Not at the moment, no.” 

Robert sighed and leaned on the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the vampire. Spike didn’t know if the man was planning to attack him or give him pointers.

“You’re the guy?” he asked. When Spike only stared in reply he clarified. “From the hospital.” He knew his daughter. She was never one to just have one boyfriend, so the reports that there was another, visiting nightly unbeknownst to him, was never shocking. A part of him welcomed that confirmation, because her dating that Harris kid was beyond the realm of teenage rebellion. He’d almost put his foot down about that one.

Spike watched the man and the varying changes going on behind those piercing eyes. “No, I haven’t been to any hospital. Just saw her in a diner out by Palm Springs. Remembered her from the news and decided to play Good Samaritan.”

As if he finally understood, Robert pushed off the counter and motioned for Spike to follow him as the man led the blond out of the kitchen, through what Spike assumed to be a rumpus room and through an open set of doors.

The large desk near the window and the shelves of books lining the walls indicated that this was the library and he wondered just what the man thought they would do in here. 

Robert walked purposefully to the mahogany piece of furniture that dominated that side of the room, opened a drawer and removed a black checkbook.

“I believe there is a matter of a reward.”

Tempted, but knowing this was not part of the plan, Spike shook his head. “Nah,” he sniffed and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “Didn’t do it for a reward.  
It was Mr. Chase’s turn to look confused. “Well, what do you want, then?”

Spike sauntered forward, hiding a smile. “Now that is a little trickier to answer.”

 

~~~*~~~

When Spike came back into the kitchen, Cordelia was descending the stairs, licking her lips, her eyes dark and feral, her body thrumming with restrained power, fired up just the way he was beginning to like to see her. She was something to behold after a kill, he was coming to discover. 

“Did you do it? he asked, knowing that she had at least gotten part of it right because only one heart remained beating in the house.

She nodded and stood very still on the bottom step, as if the effort to push the demon back and speak was too much for her at that moment.

“Like I told you, wait until the heart is palpitating before giving her your blood.”

Once again she nodded as her blank countenance slowly gave way to an iniquitous, toothy grin. “I was hoping for screaming, but she begged instead. Begging is good, right? It felt good.”

Spike smiled back at her enthusiasm and agreed. “Yeah, pet. Begging and pleading is right up there with screams in my book.” He reached for her hand and guided her down the last stair. “Let’s go see which one our Lettie will do.”


End file.
